


Soldier of Fortune

by ukenceto



Series: Love beyond the bones [2]
Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blood and Injury, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukenceto/pseuds/ukenceto
Summary: Marcus gets injured during a mission, but Baird's there to help him out... when he sees something he wasn't supposed to, and things take on a different turn.//Indirect sequel to 'Looking for the summer'





	Soldier of Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank rock but also Motörhead in particular for the inspiration behind this fic :D

Blood.

 

It was always the blood which got to him in the end. Not the stench of the locust, or the burning gunpowder fumes, or even the desperate sweat of one’s exertion. It was the sharp, coppery tang of all-too human blood, sticking heavy to the back of his throat, rising all around him; swirling down the drain, dark against the worn white of the tiles.

 

He watched it disappear, washed away by the scalding water, leaving behind only the sight of his exposed flesh and the throbbing pain which hadn’t eased since he’d gotten hit by bits of an exploding lambent wretch. But pain was an old friend, one he was well used to, the kind which always crashed on the sofa and never seemed to leave for long.

 

“Come on boss-man, we gotta get that fixed up before you bleed out all what’s left in you.”

 

Baird’s voice cut through his hazy thoughts; he’d almost forgotten the man was there at all, leaning on one wall with a frown.

 

He’d stumbled into the shower, shedding pieces of armor in a hurry to finally wash away the remaining locust gunk, uncaring about the sheer volume of blood he lost in the process. But Baird had trailed behind him, a medkit in hand, muttering something about catching him if he decided to bite the tile once the adrenaline of the fight wore off and the extent of his injury caught up with him.

 

And considering how everything around seemed to spin after he’d simply reached to turn the tap off, that didn’t seem like a bad call.

 

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he reached a hand over to the shower pipe, holding himself upright and trying to regain equilibrium. Yet he could still feel himself slipping down slowly, like a cut tree, knees giving out in a single motion until he could feel them meet the cold floor underneath.

 

A pair of arms were around him in the next instant, Baird’s voice forming a half-assed curse which sounded too distant to make out in its entirety.

 

 

 

If he’d really blacked out, Marcus reckoned, it must’ve been for a short while because when he opened his eyes again, he was still in the shower room. However, he was laying down on a bench, wrapped in a worn towel and could feel the unmistakable tang of disinfectant at the general area of his right leg.

 

He lifted his head a bit and met Baird’s worried face, the blonde taking a moment to turn his expression back to its usual façade of indifference. Like Marcus couldn’t see through that one all the same. Yet something within him stirred at the thought that Baird really cared, enough to be there for him, to do this. Marcus tried to interrupt that train of thought - it felt like he was dwelling on the gesture too much, after all he’d be worried about a squad mate in the same situation too.

 

But another part of him was saying that this _was_ Baird after all – he didn’t worry for just anyone. Not openly that is, lest anyone accused him of having a heart. Appearances to keep up and all that…

 

“What? Seriously, what are you smirking about?” Baird lifted his hands in confusion, the gesture emphasized by the fact that he was still holding a roll of gauze and a pair of scissors in them. “Here I am, thinking I’ll need to drag you back to whatever passes for infirmary around here all by myself, and you grin like a cat that’s got the cream. If you wanted me to pick you up so much, you should’ve just said so, you know.”

 

The last part was delivered with what Marcus had come to regard as the typical Baird-esque level of sarcasm, so he chose to ignore it – the one way he’d made sure the blonde’s ability to piss people off never affected him. Yet, he realized the corners of his mouth were still turned, unable to let go of the odd sort of tired fondness at being on the receiving end of Baird’s care. Too bad that actually telling the smartass so wouldn’t have accounted for much. Marcus secretly believed that if there was anyone able to surpass his own inability to accept genuine words of affection at face value, that was Baird.

 

“Or perhaps I was hoping you’d give me chocolate.” He teased back, the words rolling over his tongue with some difficulty which came from more than simply fatigue. Ah, Baird must’ve found something to numb his pain with. Explained why his leg no longer felt like it was literally on fire, and the oddly serene pace of his thoughts. Surprising, because much like the aforementioned chocolates, painkillers were getting harder and harder to come by with each passing day.

 

While the COG had still retained some form of functionality in the past years, at least medication was kept to a level that could somewhat keep up with demand; yet not even an year after the fall of Jacinto, they were running low on all kinds of supplies.

 

Ammunition, medication, food… While the last could be helped somewhat (a large portion of the Sovereign was transformed into orangeries), there were always gears going on scavenger hunts for everything else back on the mainland. Much like what they’d been doing before getting ambushed by enough enemies to need to retreat, and unable to secure an LZ for the Raven.

 

And that is how they had ended up here, that being a settlement of non-gear but neither-stranded people, at least from what he’d understood of Baird’s somewhat reluctant explanation. And them being Carmine, Cole, Baird and himself, he’d left the choice of a safe spot to evac to the engineer, in hopes that whatever he _wasn’t_ telling them about the settlement wasn’t going to be an issue.

 

“Ha, see, I knew there was an ulterior motive to all of this. Instead of like, you being a stubborn ass-“ Baird spoke while working on his leg, deft fingers wrapping the bandages tightly enough to be secure.

 

“Watch it…” Marcus said, more out of habit than anything else. He’d often tell Baird to can it if he was overstepping his rank on a mission, but it was only so that the other gears wouldn’t have issues with authority displays. While they were in their down time, which now was technically always outside of the battlefield, he found that he didn’t mind Baird’s sharp tongue. It was almost revering to have someone who didn’t tiptoe around him because of his reputation; plus there was never true malice in Baird’s words. Not when they were directed towards Marcus at least – he seems to have long since gotten over whatever grudge he’d had against him when they’d first met.

 

 “Seriously though. At least for now machine oil is more easily replaced than blood, so let’s keep the lid on this hmm?” Baird tapped his fingers on the side of his knee lightly, just above the bandage that covered his calf. “Means don’t push too hard. We can rest here for a few days, no issues. Cole’s probably already called Anya to let her know the situation.”

 

“You still haven’t told me what’s the deal with this place.” Marcus thought it was funny that despite the local anesthetic, he could still feel the trace of Baird’s touch, warmth at the point of contact where his roughened fingers had been just a moment ago.

 

“Ugh, there’s no ‘deal’, alright? It’s just people making do with what they can, much like us if I gotta be honest.” Baird closed the medkit and sat at the edge of the bench, his thigh pressing against the soles of Marcus’ feet.

 

“They didn’t look like stranded to me, and you did say they weren’t COG either. So what are they?”

 

“Fine! They’re Gorasni, ok? At least some of them. Others might have been COG once too. Does it really matter at this point?” Baird sighed, thumping his head against the wall. “Only reason they’re helping us now, is because I’ve helped them with something in the past. But they don’t want to have anything to do with what’s left of the COG, and that’s why we can’t have a Raven land here.”

 

“Fair enough. What does surprise me is how they’ve actually made out here, in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing left to scavenge around for miles, not counting that empty powerplant. And even that one’s all done for, as we found out.”

 

“It’s because… they don’t need to get stuff from outside. Perhaps they are low on a lot of stuff we’d consider necessary, but that is because we fight and get injured so often.”  Baird cast a sidelong glance at him, seemingly gauging his reaction, but Marcus kept his expression blank, waiting for him to continue.  “It’s the place that makes it possible. Built on an old bunker system, but small enough for the locust to have had no point in sinking like they did with Jacinto and the other cities.”

 

“And you think they’d last long holed up here?” Marcus found that he was curious as to how much Baird knew about those who lived here, and how that came to be. He’d helped them in the past, but how and when remained a mystery.

 

“I guess? The way I see it, their chances aren’t much different from ours in the open sea.” Standing up, Baird took another look at him and crossed his arms. “Now, I do think I said something about R&R, so let’s get to it. And that entails an actual bed, as much as you always look comfortable sleeping wherever.”

 

“Right, and princesses need their mattresses free of any peas.” Marcus huffed, though he was agreeing. Just because he _could_ sleep in the bathroom, didn’t mean it was a good idea to do so. He rose slowly, clasping the hand Baird offered his way as he stood on unsteady feet. A bolt of pain shot through him at that, but he grit his teeth and remained upright. No passing out this time, he had this.

 

“A mattress that doesn’t sway with the waves for once, thank you very much.” Baird chipped right back, though he slung an arm over Marcus’ waist to help him forth.

 

It reminded Marcus of… Like it had been far from his thoughts ever since, that is. Yet when he thought about the time, a year had come and went, a year of everyone adjusting on their life aboard the Sovereign. A year since Baird had stumbled into his room one night, rambling about being seasick and insomniac. A year since they’d slept side by side, holding each other close without the need of explanation or words, like that was a thing people did.

They hadn’t really talked about it afterwards either, and Marcus didn’t mention it was the one night from very long years that he’d slept without dreaming, without succumbing to the suffocating grasp of the nightmares in his subconsciousness. Neither he’d said that each time he saw Baird since, he’d wished to hold him close again. To find a forgotten comfort in his arms, a reminder that there was a point to all which they were going through, something else than simply living to see another dawn rise over a scorched earth.

 

And maybe he thought himself undeserving of it, and unable to say anything, not out of fear but simple acceptance. He tended to lose the people he cared for, life always took them away, one way or another. It was their reality, the way the world worked for decades.

 

Don’t get attached. Don’t look back. Don’t stop fighting. And when going through hell, keep going.

 

Marcus thought he’d stopped trying to do either of those from a long time, from the night in a frozen battlefield filled with warm blood slipping between his fingers, with feeling the life of his brother leave along with it.

 

What had he done to deserve Baird now, of all times, to stay in his life so hotheaded and loud and always full of himself, going on out of sheer spite and stubbornness?

 

Perhaps he really was fate’s favorite bargaining chip.

 

 

“Marcus? We’re here.” Baird sounded concerned, hand gripping his side a tad tighter.

 

“Oh.” Marcus realized they’d walked to a door in a dark hallway, and that there was someone he didn’t recognize next to Baird – and the two had even talked by the looks of it, while he’d been out of it enough to not even notice. A solid sign he had to get to that bed before running on autopilot failed him. “Thanks…” He said somewhat awkwardly, but he must’ve looked worse enough for the other person to not take offense in being ignored.

 

He let Baird help him in and half-stumbled, half-fell into the bed and the only reason that didn’t feel terrible was because the said bed was actually queen size. He could hear Baird whistle from the side.

 

“I was wrong. They got _better_ chances than us on that ship. Or nicer rooms at least, which is basically the same thing.”

 

“Mmhm. Then let’s not decline their hospitality.” Marcus’s words were muffled by the pillow, but he knew Baird had heard him by the short laugh he let out in response. It occurred to him that Baird must’ve been at least equally tired, but actually bothered enough to keep things in check. And he was supposed to be the one in charge… Feeling guilty didn’t offer him a solution though, so he simply hoped it would be enough to give Baird a pat on the back once he’d gotten some sleep and his head didn’t feel like it was trying to float away from his shoulders.

 

“Which, to say isn’t exactly limitless. Triax, the dude you saw outside said we’re sharing the room. Cole and Carmine are somewhere down the hall, though if the snoring was any indication, they’re both out by now.”

 

“Then they were hospitable enough to not make you sleep on the floor.” Or that was him. Yeah, most probably him but… The bed was big enough, and why else would they get that room if it wasn’t intended to be used by them both? Even so, he caught himself waiting for Baird’s answer anxiously. Would he mind? Or say anything of... before?

 

“You bet! I ain’t been in a queen size since Halvo Bay probably. Make some space by the time I’m back, hm?”

 

Turning his head to the side, Marcus cracked an eye open to look at Baird in confusion. Back? Then he saw him pick up a towel and realized the man hadn’t had a chance to shower yet, with tending to him and all. He had removed his armor as well, but there was blood and grime smeared over his tank top and upper arms.

 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, suddenly realizing that his injury didn’t necessarily mean all the blood over Baird was his own.

 

“Nah, don’t worry about me boss-man. I’m all good, just a scratch or two at most. But I stink, and don’t wanna get grub gunk all over the bed. You gonna be ok though?”

Marcus mulled over the question for a long moment as he looked at Baird; the low light of the room made the color of his eyes seem more vibrant, added a softness to his features that was usually lost amidst the scorching sun outside.

 

“Yeah… I’ll be fine.” He finally answered, though the way Baird had turned away almost shyly told the scrutiny of his gaze wasn’t lost on him.

 

“Gotcha. Just yell if there’s anything while I’m out.”  And with that Baird left, admittedly giving Marcus the pleasure of watching him do so.

 

Turning on his back with a groan, he stared blankly at the ceiling for a while. He had just thought that, hadn’t he. No kidding, Baird had a nice ass, but that was a fact he tried very hard to ignore so far, albeit with a various degree of success. Throwing an arm over his face, he wished he could go back to his exhausted state from before - at least that meant he wouldn’t have to worry about Baird getting ready to sleep next to him soon.

 

But once the treacherous thought was planted in his mind, his body had its own plans.

 

He considered ignoring it but there was no doubt he was going to sleep better if he got things over with, and well nowadays it was rare enough for him to get a chance at relieving some tension in such a way that he was willing to see things through to the end.

 

Yet he had to hurry; there was no telling how long Baird would be gone for.

 

Tracing a palm over his bare chest, Marcus closed his eyes and willed himself to relax, knowing his muscles were still tense with residual ache and fatigue. The roughened pads of his fingers felt pleasant against his skin as he ran them over his abdomen and further down; until he felt the still damp fabric of the towel around his waist. That had to go, and without much preamble, he discarded it aside.

 

The air in the room was warm as it hit his exposed skin, making him sigh. Spreading his legs apart a bit, he rested his other hand on his thigh, the weight of it for a moment reminiscent of Baird’s earlier touch, which had him bite his lip. If he couldn’t get the blonde out of his mind, then he was at least going to put those thoughts to good use.

 

He could feel himself stirring, and took his length in hand; a few long strokes had him fully hard. It had been quite a while since the last time then. Not like he was keeping track, but still…

 

Pressing his thumb against the slit and down the crown made a bolt of pleasure spread through his core, so he did it again, while gripping his thigh harder, thinking about another pair of hands which could fit upon him perfectly. Ones he’d watched tinker around with machinery of all kind and guns alike; ones he knew were just as good in fixing things as they were in _taking them apart._

 

He thought of Baird leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on his thighs, the way he’d press onto them for days afterwards, remembering the moment the blonde’s put them on him. Or maybe Baird would’ve liked to mark him in a different way. A bite where no one else could see, marring the milky flesh of his inner thighs...

 

A soft groan left Marcus’ lips as his mind conjured the image of Baird between his legs, for once putting that mouth of his to better use. The pace of his hand quickened, and he felt his toes curl with the strain, legs tensing as he thrust his hips up to meet his hand.

 

Would Baird still talk through it? Thinking that sex would shut him up was rather farfetched, Marcus decided. He’d probably tease, as he always seems to do, and Marcus wondered if he’d be as good in retorting in such a situation. Most probably not. A silver-tongued, blue-eyed devil…  Oh how he’d like to be able to touch him back though. Quite the handful he’d be, no doubt; yet Marcus already had an idea of how his body felt pressed close, warm and heavy against him. Though to hold him as they slept was definitely different than what he had in mind now, the sensations were bound to be close.

 

His hand moving smoother now as a thick dribble of pre-come rolled down his dick, and Marcus felt himself getting closer much faster than anticipated; he knew it wouldn’t take much more to go over the edge. Arching his back a bit, he imagined Baird laying over him, pressing him down into the mattress; the width of his waist nestled between the grip of Marcus’ thighs, hands all over him…

 

“ _Damon…”_ The name slipped from his lips was hardly louder than a whisper as he spilled over his stomach, the heat of his release spreading through his limbs. Chest heaving with each breath, it took him a while until the ringing in his ears subsided enough to make out the other noise in the previously quiet room.

 

Lifting himself on his elbows sharply, Marcus looked at Baird who was standing at the door, his expression both shocked and embarrassed.

 

Neither of them said a word; Marcus realized there was little to no chance he hadn’t heard him just a moment ago. Catching him in the act would’ve hardly been something incriminating – sharing a living quarters with a bunch of guys for decades leads to at least few moments such as those. But he’d gone and done himself in by not keeping quiet.

 

Before his mind could catch up with anything else though, Marcus realized the one thing Baird had failed to do so far – leave, either in disgust or anger. He was just… standing there, looking rather dumbstruck. Hair darkened to the color of an old gold from the shower, water still dripping down his skin. Wearing nothing but a towel which was, yeah, Marcus could see he seemed anything but opposed to this moment of revelation.

 

So, summoning the same daredevil attitude that had gotten him through plenty of battles before, Marcus leaned back on his elbows and gave Baird the best come-hither smirk he could manage. Let him figure out the rest – he was the smart guy after all.

 

He watched with half-lidded eyes as Baird swallowed hard, seeming almost out of balance for a while, before slamming the door and walking the few short steps to the bed with almost breakneck speed.

 

“You uh… sure about this?” Baird seemed more desperate than hesitant, knee pressed on the side of the bed, as if held back by invisible force.

 

Marcus found it rather thoughtful of the otherwise blunt blonde, but right now they were past subtlety. Reaching up, he gripped Baird’s shoulder and pulled him forth, felt him yield and climb onto the bed properly. He still couldn’t quite process that what he’d imagined mere moments ago was now more real than not; that after all those years of seeing and not seeing it, of yearning for what he kept denying himself, it was within an arm’s reach, a breath away.

 

“…Absolutely.” He answered still, holding Baird’s gaze as they moved closer to each other, closer still until their noses bumped slightly. He could feel Baird smiling before tilting his head to the side, pressing their lips together.

 

Softly, at first; a reassurance.

 

Then came the desire, the desperation.

 

The wet heat as their tongues met, messy and good and Marcus knew all he wanted was more of it. More of anything Baird was willing to give.

 

More of his hands where they traveled restlessly over his body, over his arms and sides, up and down over his pectorals just to settle at the juncture of his hips, to grip him as if to make sure he was real. Fingers raking through his hair, holding onto the shortly cropped strands, pulling him in for another kiss until Marcus wasn’t certain where he ended and where did Baird began. He nipped at his full bottom lip, held it between his for a second, traced a line down the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, met a muscular shoulder.

 

He wanted to bite, to leave a sign of his passing. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t, not when someone could see, not now. Oh how he wanted to.

 

A choked-off moan slipped from Baird’s throat, and Marcus felt him grind down onto the thigh he’d straddled at one point. Could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of the towel before reaching down to pull it off, unwilling to have any more layers in the way. Baird’s nails raked down his back in return, and he felt his dick throb in response, already ready for another round. Panting against the crook of Baird’s neck, he grabbed his ass, pulling him down until they were chest to chest, and he could feel Baird’s dick press against his own.

 

The contact made them both curse and reach forth still, the urge for friction nearly unbearable.

 

A drop of sweat ran down Marcus’ temple and traveled down the groove of his scar, but he felt Baird meet it halfway down with his tongue. It made a deep sound rise from his chest and he claimed Baird’s lips again, tasting a hint of salt upon his tongue.

 

“ _Fuck,_ Marcus I-…” Baird sounded breathless, his face flushed a dark shade of red as he dislodged the grip Marcus had on his chin and pressed a quick kiss to his palm, before taking the top of his thumb between his lips.  

 

Marcus watched the pink tip of Baird’s tongue dart out to the pad of his finger and as the blonde closed his eyes with a blissed out expression, wondered for how long exactly had he watched him before. He certainly seemed ready to blow already, the rhythm of his hips growing more erratic and frantic by the second.

 

He pressed his thumb down over the softness of Baird’s tongue, feeling his lips close down over the knuckle, before pulling it back, albeit somewhat regretfully.

 

Baird opened his eyes, his slight frown soon replaced by understanding, as Marcus sneaked his hand between the tight press of  their bodies and held both of their lengths in his broad palm, stroking them firmly.

 

“Ah-a…”

 

“You close?” He hardly _needed_ to ask, but if Baird’s moan was any indication, he enjoyed Marcus’ voice nearly as much as his touch.

 

“Almost-“ Kissing him hard, Baird held onto Marcus tightly before going motionless, the only sign of his peak being the dribble of heat as he spilled over their bellies.

 

He was still trying to catch his breath, yet Marcus felt his hand join his own, stroking him, smearing the wetness of his release further over him. Before long Marcus felt himself reach the end again, this time surrounded by Baird’s scent, taste, touch.

 

He was drowning and yet he wasn’t; he was a man amidst the desert and Baird was the long-awaited rain.

 

 

 

The ceiling fan revolved slowly as he tried to gather the scattered pieces of his thoughts back together, to calm his still pounding heart.

 

“Sera to Marcus? Hey there, thought I lost you for a sec.” Baird’s face entered his vision, but the asshole was smirking, looking completely smug with himself. “I know I’m hella good, but still.”

 

“As if. Don’t flatter yourself, blondie.” He grunted out noncommittally, bumping his knuckles against Baird’s arm where it rested over his chest. He had been tired, still was; but this was a different kind of sated exhaustion. Even his leg barely hurt anymore, leaving him aware of it but relaxed despite the slight ache.

 

 

They remained silent for a while after that; words were never his strong side anyways, and for once apparently even Baird didn’t know what to say.

 

Or perhaps didn’t need to, not yet at least. Marcus’ restless fingers settled down over Baird’s own. It was all he could say at the moment.

 

But somehow, it seemed like it was enough; as Baird pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and pulled the sheet over them both.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts about this! Hope you enjoyed c: 
> 
> //
> 
> when I said Marcus' brother I meant Carlos, and yes I know he's Dom's brother but he was so close to Marcus and they basically grew up together so they're bros mmkay 
> 
> //


End file.
